Sleep Becomes Me. When I Get It.

We had an interesting night the other night. By "we", I mean my daughter and I.  She went to bed at her regular time, maybe 8:00 or a little later, as it is summer.  I had a huge To Do list going on in my head: I was going to bake brownies in the morning to deliver to a party by noon, I wanted to make some cupcakes for my mom's birthday the next day, I had just agreed to make 4 cakes' worth of cupcakes for a big party that was three days away, and I also had to finish scrapping a memory book for the same birthday party.  So, I did what anyone else would do:  I watched TV until about 11:00, and then I decided to work on the memory book.

I stayed up until about 2:00 AM, printing and researching things that happened in 1931.  Al Capone was sentenced to eleven years in jail for tax evasion, New Delhi replaced Delhi as the capital of India, Thomas Edison filed for his last patent, the first Dracula movie came out, and China had horrible summertime floods that were deemed the deadliest natural disaster in history.  I cut, arranged, glued, re-arranged, sorted - all the things you do when you make a scrapbook.  I was pretty happy to finish the last page, one about how much things cost in 1931.  I went to bed but I didn't feel tired, so I thought I would read a little of this book on my nightstand, Straight Man.  I had been slogging through it, a little a time, trying to get to the good part.  If there is one. 

Anyway, I was on my left side (this is important!), holding the book in my left hand, on the left side of the bed.  At some point my hand got cold and I turned over to the right side, held the book in my right hand, and scooted toward the right side of the bed to be closer to the light.  I snuggled under the covers to warm my left hand.  Now comes the tricky part.  I would swear to you that I was reading away, maybe once or twice I was reading with my eyes closed, but finally I decided to close the book, turn off the light, turn back to the left side, put in the book mark, store the book on the night stand, and turn off the light.  As I was about to turn off the light, I noticed the living room light was on.  It was about 3:45 AM.

"That's odd," I thought to myself.  I was sure that I had turned all of the lights in the house off before retiring to bed.  I got up to turn off the light and I realized that my daughter's light was on.  Even stranger.  Imagine my surprise when I entered her room and found her on the phone!!!  "MAMA!", she cried out in relief.  "Where were you?"

I was befuddled.  It was the middle of the night, my house was lit up like a church, and my daughter, who refuses to talk on the phone, was doing just that.  "I was in my room", I replied confusedly.

Here is the other side of the story.  My daughter woke up in the night.  She came looking for me.  She may or may not have been fully awake.  She saw that both bedside lamps were on, but when she looked at "MY" side of the bed, I wasn't there.  She went to the TV room, which was dark.  She thought maybe I was watering the garden, but she saw that the sliding door was locked.  She examined the lock to the front door and ascertained that it was also locked.  She was calling my name and I didn't answer.  She asked herself if she should call 911.  [OK, pause for a moment and think about my side of the story.  Can you imagine how horrified I would be to be awakened by policemen banging on my door in the middle of the night?]  Instead, she called my mom.  As it was 3:45 in the morning, that phone was not answered right away, and, being a little kid, she didn't realize the logistics of having a phone downstairs when you are sleeping upstairs.  So she hung up and dialed her dad, who was two hours away.  She told him she couldn't find her mama.

He had her look all over the house, check the garage for the car, make sure the garage door was closed, double check the doors and the bathroom.  He had put on his shoes and was ready to drive down when I appeared, bleary-eyed, in her room.  He told me that he had also contemplated calling 911 (horrors!), as well as the neighbors (still - horrors!).

The thoughts of the neighbors banging on the door, inquiring as to my whereabouts in the middle of the night, were enough to keep me awake until 5 AM, as my little daughter snuggled next to me, happy that I was found.  I was pretty happy to be found, too.